


A Pinch of Sugar

by GwiYeoWeo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Med student!Ignis, Noct and prompto are best buds, Pining, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, Student!Prompto, college students, he just wants to be nice, ignis learns to accept it, like ur gonna need magnifying glass, noctis is unknowingly the sugar daddy, super vague gladio/prompto, tags to be updated, there's no war just political strain, well more like he wants to live vicariously thru prom and iggy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwiYeoWeo/pseuds/GwiYeoWeo
Summary: “I’m surprised at how costly your textbooks are.”“Oh, yeah, man, it’s insane. But hey, at least it’s not costingmyarms and legs.”Ignis raised a brow, a gesture for Prompto to elaborate.“Oh, uh, I have a buddy that’s pretty - um, rich? And well, important, like really important. And he may or may not be paying for my whole tuition. And textbooks. And food” - his voice started trailing off, gaze suddenly finding purchase in his shoes - “..And everything, actually.”In which Prompto and Ignis are students, Prompto is legitimately friends with a foreign (oil not included) prince, and Ignis realizes everything far too late.





	1. Prince and Pauper

**Author's Note:**

> College students AND sugar daddy au, heckyea. Mostly inspired by that one tumblr post about someone in law school and their cousin/relative paying for the law student’s friend’s textbooks?? Or something.
> 
> Also: the crystal and daemons still exist, but there’s no threat of a post-apocalyptic world, there’s some tension between lucis and niflheim but no war. Ardyn is.. Ardyn. All this gets elaborated in later chapters (or so I’ve planned) but just letting u guys kno
> 
> Time to pop my Ao3 cherry with a ff15 fic. Let’s go, my dudes.
> 
> no beta we die like regis (not in this fic tho, at least)

“Yes, mother, everything is fine.”

It wasn’t a _complete_ lie, Ignis told himself, as he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, hands occupied with pen and papers. And in the same way, it wasn’t a complete truth either.

Like any student, Ignis had his own stresses to tug at his nerves. There were deadlines to keep track of, terms and text to memorize and scour over. There were whole evenings spent drying his eyes out over the many notes and scribbles he had meticulously spent hours writing and rewriting, the empty cans of Ebony neatly piled at the other end of the coffee table, ready to be gathered with the recyclables at the end of the day.

And of course, there was the stress of disappointing his loving parents.

“I promise to visit soon,” he spoke, trying to keep the phone from slipping out, hunching his shoulder that much higher. His neck had begun to ache, having spent well over ten minutes pressed into his phone. He had half the mind to put his mother on speaker, but it felt rude for whatever reason. He didn’t want her to know she caught him in the middle of his studies.

They had always been supportive, understanding - everything a child could ask for, really. And it only made things that more difficult. Ignis had been raised under their gentle touch, under an ever watchful eye, and soft words. He could never imagine them anything other than parents he could say he was proud of, grateful for. So when they had gathered around the kitchen table - all three of them - and the suspense hung thick around them as Ignis neatly tore open the letter, it had _hurt_. It had hurt, seeing the sparkle in their eyes, the lines etched deep into their smiling faces, when he read the few lines of his acceptance letter, the letterhead of “Claustra University of Altissia, School of Medicine” in bold, large type and taking up nearly half the page.

When tears of pride and joy had threatened to spill from his parent's eyes, Ignis hadn’t the heart to reveal his well-worn secret. That all the time and effort invested into working on his application, was far from the interests and ambitions of his own, but rather for his parents - to see their very expressions that were before him - only to feel them conflict with his guilt and growing regrets. This wasn't what he had wanted, but seeing them as elated and proud as they were only strengthened his resolve, squashed whatever uncertainty that was growing. As arms had reached out to pull him into a tight but warm hug, Ignis had determined to keep his secret under lock and key and behind a prim smile.

“I love you too. Say hello to father for me.”

He smiled into his phone, hearing the telltale silence on the other line signaling the caller had hung up. Ignis let his phone drop onto his lap, feeling something pop as he stretched his neck toward his other shoulder. He felt one hand up his neck, massaging out the kinks and knots and sore muscle. He had a desk and chair that he really should be using; he had developed a bad routine of sitting on his worn carpet and hunching over his materials strewn across the coffee table. It didn't help that he felt his desk to be rather small, not enough space to hold all his textbooks and study materials. He'd have to buy a new desk, he supposed.

And yet another expense to be added, he sighed, running a hand through the well-worn carpet. As much as it pained him to address it, there was always the issue of finances. Higher education did not come freely - and Altissia’s med school _especially_ , did not come kindly. There were savings here and there, Ignis’ own and his parents’ - and oh, how they insisted that they were saving up for times like these, that it had been planned for at least a couple years - but it seemed the university wanted their students to at least sell a kidney or a leg, judging by their outrageous tuition. Ignis, like the others, defaulted to student loans. And while he had _some_ financial aid to keep him afloat, he still had to be careful with his expenses. He had spent nights working on budgets, cutting costs, figuring when and where he could afford more wiggle room or when he had to do without. There was a folder filled with coupons that needed to be looked over and cut, still sitting in the drawer of his barely-touched desk. (The desk was second-hand, of course.)

Already he was trying to fit in the cost of a new desk, when his phone rang once again, the default tone a simple chime. Ignis let his pen down, answering without bothering to check the caller ID.

 _“ Heeey! Still up for lunch?”_ came the familiar, sing-song voice. Prompto.

It seemed that no matter the time or space, Prompto - all energy and spirit like the incarnation of the sun itself - was infectious, spreading his glee and zeal to whoever he interacted with. Ignis didn’t even notice the small smile that had touched his lips. It was a welcomed distraction from the slew of numbers and thoughts that threatened to take over. “Of course, Prompto. Though you never told me where we would be going.”

 _“ Right. About that.”_  There was a brief but noticeable pause. Ignis could sense the hesitation on the other line, was about to comment that it'd be perfectly fine to cancel lunch (it wouldn't be the first nor last time, after all) and he made the move to speak -

_“ A buddy's tagging along. That okay? He's visiting for a couple weeks, and I dunno, I, uh, figured we could let him pick?”_

“Ah, I don't see why not.” Ignis wasn't sure what made Prompto apprehensive in asking, but he certainly didn't mind. It wouldn't hurt to have an extra headcount for lunch.

_“ Aw yeah! Thanks, Iggy. Meet you at the usual?”_

“At the usual. Until then, Prompto.”

 

 

“I’m surprised at how costly your textbooks are; they could very well be worth an arm and a leg.”

Ignis and Prompto shared a stone bench, sitting in front a small intricate fountain, only one of many that dotted across Altissia. This one seemed to be made in the likeness of the Tidemother, surrounded by a myriad of sea creatures and coral - a testament to the skills and handiwork of Altissian craftsmen. A breeze sent some spray toward the two, and Ignis felt a light mist settle on his face. Perhaps, if it was summer, he would have appreciated it; today had turned out to be a surprisingly cool day, the seasons changing into autumn. He was in want of a scarf, which he should have had the foresight to bring.

“Oh, yeah, man, it’s insane. But hey, at least it’s not costing _my_ arms and legs.”

They had made some small talk, catching up on the things they had missed during their busy week. Prompto had already decided to major in Art but recently figured to pick up journalism as a minor - the latter being recent news to Ignis. Prompto had quickly proceeded to wail about the costs for the new textbooks, claiming it was all a ploy to generate funds for Altissia’s secret scheme of world domination.

“And who’s, pray tell, arms and legs are they?” Ignis raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Prompto to elaborate. Prompto certainly did not come off as the slasher serial killer of sorts, too much energy and bumbling sunshine. Or Ignis was just _seriously_ bad at picking friends.

“Oh, uh, I have a buddy that’s pretty - um, rich? And well, important, like _really_ important. And he may or may not be paying for my whole tuition. And textbooks. And food” - his voice started trailing off, gaze suddenly finding purchase in his shoes - “..And everything, actually.”

Prompto fidgeted, flashing a nervous smile, looking as if he should have kept that information to himself. He glanced back up at Ignis, as if to gauge the other’s reaction, but his eyes quickly flit over a bit to the side, attention drawn to something behind Ignis.

And honestly, Ignis was half-sure the other was joking. He deadpanned, was about to ask if the young man was actually serious.

“Oh, wait - hey, Noct!” Prompto looked ready to bounce off the bench, stretching and waving his arm above his head, grabbing whoever’s attention that had grabbed his.

“Yeah, yeah, I see you.”

Swallowing whatever doubts and questions he was about to bring up, Ignis turned around, saw a young man standing by the final steps that led up to their little plaza. Prompto had already stood up, had weaseled his way behind the newcomer, and was urging the friend forward by playfully pushing on his back and shoulders. Seeing them so close together, Ignis couldn’t help but marvel at what a stark contrast the two were. Prompto, with his blonde hair and clothes in warm autumn colors, and the other - Noct, according to the former - looked to be dressed for a funeral, with his dark hair and equally dark clothes, and whose fair complexion seemed so stark against all the black.

“Alright, so. This is Ignis,” Prompto began the introductions, once he had gotten them all together. He swept a hand from one to the other. “And this is Noctis.”

Ignis stood at his name, offering a hand forward. “Ignis Scientia, a pleasure.”

“Hey, ‘m Noctis.”

Ignis’ hand was met in a light but firm handshake. _Well-practiced_ , he couldn’t help but think.

“But just call me Noct.” Noctis offered an easy smile of his own, a corner of his lips lilting upwards in a lazy tilt. His eyes, however, had an altogether different impression of their own - clear and alert, piercing, _mesmerizing_. They were the kind of blue that reminded him of the ocean, the colder, darker depths that hid underneath sparkling sun-kissed waves. There was a mysterious air about him, the way his body language said aloof and indifferent but the fine details hinted at something more. They said the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Ignis imagined that if one looked long and deep enough, there was some secret he could pick out from those deep blues.

“Okay, _ew_ ,” Prompto interjected, waving a hand in between them. “Can you guys like, not have eye sex right now?” He scrunched up his nose, making a gagging sound. “Save it for after lunch, at least. I’m _staaaarving_.”

“Oh, shut it.” Noctis rolled his eyes, jabbing Prompto’s ribs with his elbow, earning him a quiet ‘ _Oof._ ’

Noctis played it off cooly, but went after Prompto into a playful chokehold. Ignis watched their one-sided tussle, trying to figure out what had just happened. Did he - Was he really staring that badly? Well, might as well own it and play along. He cleared his throat, trying to gather the attention of the two. Noctis was using a free hand to goof up Prompto’s carefully gelled-up hair, leaving Prompto hopelessly wailing and swatting at the other - an endearing sight.

“I prefer over dinner,” Ignis said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Uh, bud, dinner’s not - _Noct! C’monnn_ \- not for another” - an annoyed huff, a quick struggle - “Five hours and -”

“Eye sex.” Ignis could almost hear the tires screeching in Prompto’s head. Noctis, however, he couldn’t get a good read on. But he pressed on, determined to see this through. “It’d be far more romantic over dinner. Candlelit and a vintage bottle of wine,” he continued, a casual smile an odd balance to the seriousness in his voice. He hoped this wasn’t too far of a joke for their first introduction, but Noctis seemed to be the laid-back type of sorts, seeing as how he was more than happy to go for a childish round with Prompto in broad daylight.

 _“ Nice.”_   A smile slowly emerged from Noctis, wide and fully amused, as he gave a final noogie to Prompto before gently shoving him off, much to the other’s chagrin. He tidied up his scarf that had gotten loose during their little scuffle, peering up at Ignis inquisitively.

“I think I like you already, Specs.”

Prompto retched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay so, some might be wondering: “iggy wtf how do u not recognize a literal prince (noctis)” and i promise u there’s a reason for that. Just, it’s gonna take like five or six chapters before i get there tho LOL. 
> 
> And I forgot to mention it’s been 5 years since I last wrote a fic. So, yep. :^)


	2. A Token of Friendship (or something)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the [post responsible](http://luninosity.tumblr.com/post/131986762509/overhead-while-walking-to-the-parking-lot-on) for this fic, btw.

Noctis and Prompto had been throwing lunch ideas at each other, and Ignis had been fully content to stay out of it, to let the two bicker among themselves. And that had been the case, until Noctis had looked his way, with that same sharp gaze, and asked for his opinion. Ignis had haphazardly threw in his suggestion, a discreet and quiet little spot perched right above the water. (But given Altissia, what _wasn’t_ near water?) There wasn’t anything distinct about it, so Ignis had believed his suggestion to fly away with the breeze, to be put aside in favor of trading ideas with Prompto again. But it had granted him Noctis’ interest and Prompto’s tired sigh when he mentioned the balcony view - a clear sight of a popular fishing spot among the locals.

A unanimous decision was made - by Noctis deciding for all three of them - and they weaved their way through the growing crowds. Somehow they managed to stick together, as the hustle and bustle thickened with wide-eyed tourists and eager workers heading for their lunch breaks, the aroma of Altissian spices beckoning at hungry stomachs. Ignis slowed at the familiar signs and plaques, gently tapping at Prompto’s elbow, before stopping to point at a quiet alleyway, nodded toward the narrow path. “Shortcut,” he simply offered, trusting the two would follow.

The well-paved paths led to broken stone and cracked cement, ornate decorum giving way to the more modest side of the grand city. At the other end, their path led to a small open area sparse with locals here and there, a gondola patiently waiting by the water’s edge.

“We could take the gondola,” Ignis said, gesturing to the dock, “Or would you gentlemen prefer a stroll?”

“Ooh, ooh, gondola!”

“Gondola. Leg's feelin’ a little tired.”

Prompto turned at this, eyeing Noctis cautiously, the faintest sign of concern etching along his face.

“I'm good. Don't worry about it.” Noctis waved a lazy hand, dismissing the worries, and threw in a thumbs up for good measure. He was quick to reassure, albeit a bit hastily, Ignis thought.

“Are you alright?” Ignis looked to gauge Noctis’ expression for his own. “Something amiss?” He didn't mean to pry, but he hated to remain ignorant to another's discomfort.

“Nah, we’re good. Prompto’s just being a worrywart.”

Ignis took his word for it.

They shuffled into the gondola, Prompto and Noctis sitting side-by-side in the larger seat, Ignis choosing the chair across from them to face the two. Ignis figured to pass the short time by describing their destination, how it was situated in a corner of a small plaza, where they could see the docks and waters spread out underneath them. Prompto pulled out his camera sometime in the middle of it all, holding it at arm’s length as he sidled up to Noctis, shoulders pressed together and head tilted close.

“Say cheese, Noct!”

Noctis rolled his eyes, but seemed rather content to indulge Prompto. He adjusted his heavy scarf, pulling it down below his chin, offering another of his lazy smiles and a peace sign. Prompto was beaming with his wide, too bright grin. There was the audible shutter, and Prompto was quick to turn the camera over to see how the picture turned out.  

“Ugh, dude, your giant face took up the entire picture.” He squinted at the screen and pursed his lips into a pout.

“What can I say? Camera loves me.” Noctis was rewarded with a playful bump to his shoulder.

“I doubt my camera skills hold a candle to Prompto’s, but would you like me to play photographer?”

Noctis and Prompto looked up from the small screen and toward Ignis, who offered a hand before the camera.

“Go for it, Iggy,” Prompto chirped, passing on the camera. “Make sure to get my good side.”

Ignis breathed a quiet, short laugh and nodded. “Alright. Ready?” Ignis lifted the camera, zooming and centering the lens onto the two. Their lopsided smiles were infectious, and he could feel one budding onto his lips. There was something charming about the two and their playful antics. “Three, two.. One.”

He spared himself a moment to judge his camera work. There was Noctis, his usual smile and a peace sign, Prompto with his arm slung around the other’s shoulder, similar to their first pose - except, he actually managed to get both of them in the shot, as opposed to prior.

“Aw, thanks,” Prompto said, taking the camera back, “This one’s going in the ol’ scrapbook.” He smiled fondly at the screen before he turned his eyes up at Ignis. His words came slowly, in the characteristic way he tried to goad others into a favor. “But, uh, I think it’s missing something..? Well, _someone_.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, you know you wanna.”

Honestly, Ignis didn’t want to intrude in their little fun; he was fine with being an observer. But when given the invitation, it suddenly became very hard to resist. He slowly stood, careful to not rock the gondola, already shifting due to the change in weight. “Where would you like me?”

“Good question.” Prompto tapped his chin once, twice. “Hm, let’s put you by Noct.” He slid over to the side, making room for Ignis.

This seat was certainly not meant to hold three grown men. It was a bit of a tight squeeze; Ignis had to be set flush against Noctis, and their knees kept knocking together. Still, Noctis didn’t seem to be in any discomfort, until Prompto purposely _pressed_ against him and tightly sandwiched Noctis in between them. There was an annoyed huff and a gentle jab at Prompto’s side, who only snickered in response.

“Cheese!” In one swift motion, Prompto had lifted the camera above them, snapping the photo before Ignis or Noctis had time to prepare.

“Prompto, you shit, you didn’t even warn us, “ Noctis protested, eyes narrowed in on the blonde. Noctis had taken the words right out of Ignis’ mouth, albeit in a more crude manner. He reached over to snatch at the camera, but Prompto was already a step ahead, leaning precariously over the boat’s edge, camera way out of the other’s reach. The gondoleer cleared his throat, drawing the attention of all three, and glowered at them.

“Perhaps the horseplay can wait for land,” Ignis advised, clearing his own throat in turn. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I’d rather not capsize into cold waters and contract pneumonia.”

Noctis and Prompto nodded in unison, each sporting a sheepish smile, as they withdrew back into their seats. Prompto, however, probably uncomfortable in the cramped space, stood and took the seat across from them, claiming the chair Ignis had been sitting in before he had agreed to the selfie.

Now with ample space, Ignis and Noctis finally had enough breathing room. Ignis didn’t realize just how cramped it was until they scooted out of each other’s personal bubbles - the body heat they shared from being pressed into each other quickly cooling through their clothes. He missed that warmth, for a split second.

“Well, I think this one looks great. Definitely a keeper.” Across from him, Prompto leaned in and showed them the screen.

Prompto, the little devil, was the only photogenic one, looking into the camera with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. Noctis was glaring at his friend with slight irritation, shoulders and arms pressed tightly to his sides, brows furrowed and mouth set into a pout - which, was kind of adorable, Ignis thought. Beside him was Ignis who had his gaze right on Noctis, an affectionate smile playing at his lips, fingers barely grazing the young man’s shoulder. The scene looked candid, charming in its own way, despite the unflattering angles, save for Prompto.

“Ugh, seriously? My mouth’s puckered like a dumb fish.”

“I’m sorry to disagree, but I’ll have to side with Prompto on this one.” He received an utter look of betrayal from Noctis. “And while marine life is not my expertise, I’d say you’re rather fetching for a ‘dumb fish’.”

Noctis disapproval immediately melted, and he opted for a laugh instead, as Ignis found himself in the man's good graces once again. Prompto just rolled his eyes, discreetly snapping pictures of the two.

 

 

A silver bell on the inner handle signalled their arrival, chiming at the new customers in greeting. Aside from their little group of two - Noctis lagged behind by the gondola, handing their attendant something, Ignis hadn't seen - there was only a pair of two young women perched by a window seat. The air was filled with the scent of familiar Altissian spices but with a milder tone, intermingled with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread. A young man by the small bar smiled and nodded politely at them, spreading an arm out wide over their empty tables.

“Welcome, sit wherever you’d like.” His voice was soft, mimicking the calm of the atmosphere.

Ignis looked over to the glass sliding door that separated the indoor seating from the balcony, remembering it was the promise of an ocean view that had acquired Noctis’ favor. It was a touch too cool to dine outside, but a seat nearby should work just as well.

Noctis quickly caught up, the bell chiming once more at his arrival. “Smells great in here,” he hummed in approval, chest visibly lifting as he took a deep breath. He glanced at the walls, taking a quick survey of the humble restaurant.

Ignis followed his line of sight, over to the pottery and seemingly random knick-knacks that either rested on shelves or were nailed to the wall. There was a small collection of fishing lures proudly shown on the center of the left wall, a small plaque that presumably listed their names. Ignis wasn’t sure, never took much interest to read it. Not until now, at least, wishing he had so he could at least turn it into a short conversation piece for Noctis, who appeared to have taken a liking to it.

Ignis guided them toward the far end, to the table closest to the balcony. He and Prompto took to their seats while Noctis chose to linger at the glass door, to look out over the piers and gray ocean, before claiming his chair.

“I like it here, it’s pretty cozy,” Noctis commented, looking up at their server who brought the day’s menu.

“Thank you, and yes, it is. If they added a fireplace in here, I think I’d accidentally fall asleep on the job.” The young man smiled and nodded his thanks, walking away to retrieve their complementary water.

“Actually, it’d be pretty toasty if we had a fire going. I’m kinda warm myself already,” Prompto added in, who had begun shedding his jacket.

Ignis had already taken off his coat when they entered, knowing how warm they kept it in here, and had folded it over the back of his chair when he took his seat. “Far better than freezing.”

Noctis hummed in agreement, having to do a bit more maneuvering to peel off his scarf and heavy, thicker coat.

Decisions came easy, and their orders made quick. Unsurprisingly, they all ordered some sort of seafood; Ignis had chosen a light pasta, Noctis and Prompto’s from the grill. It was a short wait, the empty tables only finding a few more patrons as the kitchen prepared the food. The dishes arrived hot and steaming, the delicious spices surrounding their table. The three gave their quiet thanks as they were served, Prompto a bit more enthusiastic as he whipped out his camera to take some shots.

Noctis pointedly looked at Prompto, who swiftly smacked Noctis’ hand away from his fork.

“Not yet, dude! Lemme take a few shots, these are gonna be _perfect_ ,” he insisted.

Noctis sighed, rolling his eyes. “Hurry it up before it gets cold.”

Ignis leaned back in his seat, willing to spare a minute for Prompto. It wouldn’t hurt; besides, he figured his meal would burn his tongue with how hot the plate was.

A few clicks and snapshots later, Prompto appeared to be satisfied, and he tucked away his camera. Noctis muttered something under his breath, and Prompto ducked his head in feigned shame, his smile saying he felt no guilt in keeping them from eating. The first several bites were taken in relative silence, all three too busy with eating and savoring the rich but comforting flavors. Prompto had gone in with gusto, probably the most starved of the three, considering his earlier complaints of his hungry stomach.

Noctis, Ignis observed, ate with oddly impeccable table manners - his back straight, with elbows off the table and fingers delicately wrapped around his fork. And just as strange, if not more, his eating habits were nearly silent. And how was it possible for someone to look that _graceful_ while eating? It was so bizarre it was almost unnerving. He seemed to be an almost entirely different person at the table. When they had walked around the city, Noctis kept a comfortable hunch to his back and an uneven gait.

He caught himself staring (again) and half-expected a quip from Prompto. Thankfully, he was too absorbed with his food to even notice. If Noctis had felt his stare, he was either preoccupied with his food as well or was polite enough to not bring it up. Ignis preferred the former, a bit embarrassed to find himself staring so much.

“It's a nice hole in the wall. Good view, good food. Quiet,” Noctis said slowly, lowering his fork and glancing out into the waters. He turned his attention back around and tipped his head toward Ignis. “Thanks. Really.”

Ignis waved his hand dismissively. “No thanks necessary.” Contrary to his attitude, he felt a tickle, a tug in his chest, at Noctis’ praise. He was sure it wasn’t the food, or at least he hoped it wasn’t.

Once they had gotten food into their systems, their mouths spent less time eating and more time talking. Prompto kicked it off when he starting talking about his classes and university life, mostly complaining about exams or the lack of chocobos. Despite his whining, Noctis smiled and listened with fond eyes, humming or laughing here and there, with his attention fully focused on his friend’s babbling words.

“We can try to visit a chocobo ranch, on your next break. I’m pretty sure I can schedule something in,” Noctis said, dabbing his lips with a napkin.

Prompto almost bounced out his seat, eyes shining with excitement and absolute glee, hands gripping the edge of the table lest he _actually_ jump off his chair. “Oh, em, gee. Noct, you are the _best_. Did I ever tell you you’re like, the bestest friend, ever? ‘Cause you totally are, dude.” He sighed in complete bliss, letting himself slump back against his chair. He lifted his hands and gently clapped them together in prayer, bringing the tips of his fingers to touch his chin, and his eyes lifted to the ceiling.

“Ah, chocobos.”

And Prompto was gone, off in chocobo dreamland, leaving Noctis and Ignis behind to reality.

Noctis lightly snorted, and even Ignis couldn’t help his own amused smile. Ignis always knew about the other’s penchant for the large birds, but his enthusiasm never failed to charm. And it seemed to never fail Noctis, either, judging by his soft laugh.

“And you, Specs?”

“Pardon?”

“Any plans for your break? You’re in med school, or something, right?”

Fair questions, Ignis knew, though he wasn’t expecting the shift of Noctis’ attention on him. Adjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he nodded.

“No and yes. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I’ve been a bit preoccupied with studies to think much about vacation.”

Noctis let a thoughtful hum. “And how’s school? Heard it’s.. _Rough_.” His eyes narrowed, nose scrunching up, already knowing the answer.

Ignis appreciated the other’s sympathy. “Horrid. Sometimes I wonder why I’m doing this,” he replied, words tinged with sarcasm.

He knew, of course, why. And he never failed to remember his parents’ smiling faces, the elation and pride they held in their chests - and with it, the pang of his own guilt. He willed the image away; this wasn’t the place nor time, too heavy for a light-hearted outing.

Thankfully, Prompto’s outburst helped, having been pulled out of his reverie. Somehow.

“Ugh, man, you should see the price tag. I mean, c’mon, you’re learning how to save lives and stuff! D’ya really have to charge that much?” Prompto made a face and shuddered, as if the hefty cost was haunting _him_ and not Ignis. “But what do I know? I’m just a dumb art student.”

“And that’s why you’re not in med school,” Noctis agreed.

“Hey!”

Noctis smiled and turned back to Ignis. “So, what _does_ the price tag look like?”

Ignis visibly grimaced, ignoring the way Prompto glanced at Noctis (who simply shrugged). “I’d rather not say.”

“Fair enough.” Noctis seemed content enough with that and let the topic drop.

“And you? Are you attending..?” It was a safe question, not intrusive. Noctis had asked them how their school life was, Ignis could do the same.

“Nah, no school,” Noctis replied, gaze turning a bit distant, “Just picking up the family business.”

“I see.” It was Ignis turn to drop the topic. He didn't miss the look of longing in those blue eyes, and he knew to not press further.

 

 

When they finished their lunch and all three clearly had no room for dessert, Noctis stood to excuse himself. He made his way to the restroom, but not without stopping by their server and quietly sharing a few words with him. Ignis wasn’t the one to eavesdrop, so he looked back to Prompto and indulged him in listening to his chocobo rambles again.

A short moment later Noctis returned to the table but remained standing, hand resting on his coat that hung on his chair. “Alright, I gotta get rolling. Have an appointment with some old farts.”

“Aww, already? Thought we could play King’s Knight together,” Prompto whined but already making to stand.

Noctis shook his head, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry. We can later?”

Prompto nodded, shrugging on his jacket. Ignis made to do the same, pulling out his wallet as he did so. He had just wrapped his fingers around the leather when a hand lightly touched his arm. He glanced to see Noctis, thick coat already buttoned up, scarf laid over one arm.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He added, seeing Ignis’ questioning eyes, “Already paid.”

Ignis was almost embarrassed when it took a second too late to realize what Noctis had meant. _Generous_ , was the first thought that crossed his mind. _He shouldn’t have_ , was the second. He opened his lips to protest, that there was no need for the generosity, that Noctis was the guest and it should have been the other way around -

“Take it as thanks. For showing me the place.” Noctis beat him to the punch, eyes staring him down with a certain boldness and Ignis knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t win. Not against that nearly demanding tone, those resolute eyes.

Ignis shoulders went slack and he wordlessly conceded, pulling his empty hand out his pocket. Noctis looked almost too pleased, but he couldn’t say it bothered him.

They made their exit, waving their thanks to the staff. As soon as they crossed the door, Ignis could feel the drop in temperature, a light shudder racking his body. Perhaps he was too used to the warmth of the restaurant or it actually did get colder.

Prompto was the first to excuse himself, woefully declaring he had an assignment due that night. After reassuring Ignis he knew his way back, he cheerfully hugged both Noctis and Ignis goodbye before bounding around the corner.

Ignis turned to say his farewell to his new acquaintance, when suddenly he saw a flash of black, and the next thing he knew there was a softness wrapping itself around his neck. Noctis stood before him, having to stretch just a bit to reach, adjusting a black scarf - _his_ black scarf - around Ignis’ shoulders. One, two pats against his chest and the younger man stood back, looking rather satisfied.

Ignis could smell the faint cologne, earthy but light.

“Black looks good on you, Specs,” Noctis mused.

Ignis lightly brushed against the scarf, which suddenly seemed very delicate. It was incredibly soft, he vaguely thought. But first.

“I can’t. Really, it’s not so cold that -”

“Oh, shut up, I saw that shiver.” Noctis rolled his eyes.

If Ignis hadn’t known it was out of good will, he would probably be offended. Probably.

“Just take it. Token of friendship or something.”

Ignis swallowed, nodding.

“Good.”

Noctis turned on his heel and strode off, hands in his pockets, a slight slouch in his back.

 

 

Later, when he checked the designer tag on the scarf, a gut feeling told him he would regret searching it up, finding just how much a single scarf could push the limits of sensible spending. It didn’t stop him from wearing it though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iggy, probably: It started off with a scarf how did it end up _like this it was only a scarf IT WAS ONLY A SCARF_


	3. How Mighty Is The Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, guess who discovered google doc's nifty tools and can now easily use '—' instead of single hyphens lol  
> This person. :^)

He should have grown accustomed to them now, but he still couldn’t help but pause or turn his head at the little knick knacks and various wares the street vendors were always advertising. Now that the chill of autumn had come in full-fledged, most of the street stalls were packed up and stored away for the coming winter. Still, there were some willing to brave through the cold and carry on business for just a while longer; tourism was always booming in Altissia, no matter the season, and tourists were ripe for the picking, as evident of the still busy streets and parents chasing around errant little children.

Ignis wasn’t a tourist, but he still liked to window shop. Already there were a few stalls selling goods for the winter holidays, all shine and twinkling lights decorating their carts and stands. He stopped to pick up a silver star, a loop tied around the top, designed to be hung somewhere. No doubt a tree decoration. He hadn’t thought to put up a tree for the winter holiday. One, it was still autumn. Two, he hadn’t planned on budgeting for one in the first place. He placed the star back in its velvet showcase. Maybe he’d find a one foot tall plastic rendition of one, if he ended up feeling particularly festive.

A particularly cool breeze whipped at him, reminding Ignis to keep moving. Moving on from the stall, he pulled his scarf closer to his face, the same scarf Noctis had given him a few days ago. It still smelled of his cologne, as faint as it was. Ignis didn’t want to dwell on the disappointment that came with the realization that, in a few days time, the scent would disappear. Didn’t want to dwell on the _why_.

“Specs?”

Oh. Peachy. Now he was imagining his voice.

“Um, hey? Ignis?”

Or perhaps not. That sounded much too real. Ignis turned, furrowing his brows, doubt still lingering. He scanned for faces, for the dark hair and blue eyes. It took two, maybe three seconds to zero in on Noctis, who was already walking up to him. Ignis expected the same black ensemble, the dark clothes that made his skin paler than it really was. And though Noctis was certainly sticking to monochrome, he wore a gray coat this time, lightly lined with dark brown fur; the only real pop of color was the blue scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. A blue that matched his eyes, Ignis noticed.

“Hey, knew it was you,” Noctis said, a confidence in his voice that Ignis didn’t doubt.

“Well, hello, Noctis.” Ignis didn’t think of himself as someone so memorable, but he was undeniably pleased to know Noctis had managed to recognize him out of the crowd. “Prompto isn’t with you?”

Noctis gave him a pointed look. “Just because he’s my best friend doesn’t mean we’re glued together.”

“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging, “but he was rather enthusiastic to see you again. Having been so long, I assumed he’d be spending whatever time he had to catch up with his childhood friend.”

“Fair enough,” Noctis conceded. He walked up to Ignis side, looking up at him with a cocky smile. He reached out with one hand, pale fingers running along Ignis’, formerly Noctis’, scarf. “You like it?”

Suddenly the crowd and sounds of Altissia were drowned out by that single point of contact. Something in his head buzzed, and he was certain he was imagining it. Ignis slowly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yes.” Though really, it should be obvious he wouldn’t wear something he didn’t like.

“Cool.” Noctis looked smug, and Ignis wondered what for. It wouldn’t be hard to guess, he knew, but finding out the answer, he felt, would fill him with emotions that he was unwilling to admit. He was waiting for Noctis to let go, to maybe pat him on the chest as he did last time, to go their separate ways after exchanging their greetings. Instead, Noctis wrapped his fingers around one end of the scarf and lightly tugged. When he took a step forward, Ignis took one in tandem. And another, then another.

Though it was just for three steps, Noctis was using the damn scarf like a leash. And _that_ ignited a tangle of thoughts and emotions that left Ignis dumbfounded. He… He really did not want to think about what any of that meant. So he compartmentalized it, filed it away for a later night to drink down with cheap beer; looking at Noctis’ half grin made it dangerously easy to.

“Walk with me, Specs,” Noctis said, though his tone posed it as more of a question than a demand.

“Alright,” was all Ignis could muster.

 

 

Turns out Noctis wasn’t just walking around the plazas for the sake of fresh air and light cardio.

“Looking for souvenirs for dad. And for the glai — mm, friends,” Noctis had claimed, when they stopped at another vendor to take a peek at their goods. Nothing had met his criteria, and they had moved on.

“Tell me what your father likes. Perhaps I could help you find a thing or two,” Ignis had offered, much to the other’s delight. Out of all the smiles he had seen so far, that was a new one.

In the end, Ignis spent the better hour playing tour guide, somehow. He pointed out some of the arts that dotted across Altissia, made a short detour here and there to show a sculpture or the more famous fountains.

“Prompto would be better suited, I imagine, as he’s the art major,” he said, when he explained the history and supposed meaning behind an abstract piece, a metal sculpture made of winding steel and bronze wires. “And to be frank, I have not even a clue as to how critics came up with _that_ conclusion.”

And if Noctis grew tired of the sightseeing, he never showed it. Maybe Ignis’ own bias was clouding his judgment, but the young man looked to be enjoying himself, with his easy smile and content eyes.

“And that one?” Noctis pointed to some statues.

“Hmm, the whole of them? I believe they’re all made by different artists, some sort of collaboration, if memory serves right. Each have their own meaning, but if woven together, they paint a different story entirely.”

“That one, left to that stone thing,” Noctis said, leaning into Ignis.

Ignis, in turn, reciprocated and bent his knees just so, pressing shoulder-to-shoulder with Noctis. He tried to follow the other’s line of sight, tried to see what Noctis was seeing. Problem was, about a third of them were sculpted with or from stone. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“The one,” Noctis huffed, pressing harder into Ignis, “with that round, er, oval thing in the middle.”

“Ah, the.. Hm.” Ignis furrowed his brows, trying to recall its name. Actually, he didn’t think he ever knew what it was. Again, art was never his major. “I’m afraid I can’t say,” he finally admitted.

“Huh,” Noctis said, amusement where Ignis expected disappointment. “So you don’t know everything after all.”

“I’m not infallible.” Ignis narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you were aiming for?” Now that he thought of it, Noctis was rather enthusiastic with pointing out various artworks and asking for their names or history, only to receive searching eyes and a mild hum as Noctis looked for something else to point out. He seemed more interested in the act of _asking_ than receiving answers.

Noctis offered no reply but the twinkle in his eyes.

Eventually, they made their way to a string of shops, where the hustle and bustle of the city was at its thickest. More than once did Ignis lose Noctis to the sea of people, had to wait at a shop sign for the other to catch up, or weave himself back into the crowd to pull the poor man out liked a drowned rat.

“Here,” Ignis offered, after the fourth time of losing him.

Noctis smiled, wordlessly threading his hand through the loop of Ignis’ arm. When Noctis leaned in, sharing just a bit of contact where his shoulder met Ignis’ arm, neither made a comment.

Ignis guided them to a little gift shop, humble with its small space and cracked paint, but a quaint and pleasant shop nonetheless. He made it a point to steer clear of the more gaudy stores, the obvious tourist traps that carried cheap keychains and plastic bottle openers with names engraved on them.

The store owner greeted them with a smile in her eyes and a soft “Welcome” before returning her attention to stocking a shelf. Ignis nodded a greeting in turn, Noctis muttered a thanks, as they weaved their way through tight spaces in between stands and shelves.

“You mentioned your father and an uncle. Any idea to what they'd like?” Ignis asked, picking up a glass jewelry box to inspect.

Noctis twisted his lips, turning over a tiny snow globe in his hands, sending a flurry of white confetti around a miniature Leviathan. “That’s kinda the problem,” he sighed, carefully returning the snowglobe. “I mean, I know what they like, it’s just… Dad can get almost anything he wants. Same for my, um, uncle.” His voice went quiet, hesitance and something like nervousness hiding behind his words. Ignis wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden wall Noct had put up, but he wasn’t going to press it.

“So therein lies the problem: what to get a man who is in want of nothing. Correct?”

Noctis nodded, finally choosing to look back at Ignis, looking oddly relieved.

“Hm, alright then. Perhaps something practical, something he could use regularly. Let’s start with your father.” Which meant things like jewelry were out of the question. He would have suggested an Altissian crafted watch, but that seemed more appropriate as a birthday gift than a mere souvenir. “Has he been to Altissia before?”

“Yeah, once, when he was like, what?” Noctis narrowed his eyes in concentration, lightly tapping his chin. “Twenty somethin’? For a, uh — business deal. I think.”

Oh, a business man then. Well, Noctis did mention something about a family business, so it was no surprise. Ignis briefly wondered what sort of empire they had built up, and in what medium they specialized. Though a hunch told him Noctis may be uncomfortable with divulging such information, given how he tiptoed his way around the subject. So instead, back to the matter at hand, which, fortunately, he had gotten an idea from the offhand comment. “Business deals. Is he often writing, then? Signing papers and such?”

“Yeah. A lot, actually. Practically the whole day.” Noctis frowned. “He goes through ink like water. Loses his pens a lot even if you stick a whole bag of ‘em in his drawer. Dunno how he loses them like that.” Then, _click_ like a lightbulb, his face lit up, and Ignis recognized the gears turning in Noctis’ head, coming to the same idea he had arrived at. “Oh, you don’t think… ” The young man looked back up with bright eyes, gaze landing on Ignis’, quickly realizing what the other had been guiding him to. “Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, so a pen. But like, a nice one. Dad has a, one of those fancy ones that come with their own stand, but he’s been complaining that the ink’s all blocked up or something like that. Okay, soooo that’s that’s good? I mean, that’s not _good_ , ‘cause y’know, that’s annoying, but well I — you know what I mean.” He helplessly gestured his hands in the air, hoping Ignis would catch on.

“Indeed I do. A small blessing in disguise of a curse, perhaps?” Ignis said with a wry smile.

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed, “Yeah, that works.”

Ignis wasn’t entirely sure if this little shop offered what they were looking for, but nothing ventured nothing gained. So he guided them to the back where the more elaborate, pricier merchandise were locked away under glass and velvet. Judging by Noctis’ earlier financial habits and the newly acquired information of his father, Ignis figured Noctis could afford to splurge a bit on the souvenir. They peered into the glass cases, Ignis keeping his hands folded behind his back and Noctis lightly ghosting his fingers over the glass panels. The lighting was obviously coordinated to show off the sparkle and shine of whatever was kept inside, some jewelry here or crystal decorations there, a few knives encrusted with gems and the likes.

“Oh, look,” Noctis tapped on Ignis’ arm to grab his attention and pointed. Ignis followed his line of sight to where it landed on, _how fortunate_ , a black rectangular box that was propped open, where a sleek very shiny, _very expensive-looking_ fountain pen delicately lay.

_‘Oh, no.’_

Immediately Ignis regretted his advice, swallowing his earlier comfort of letting Noctis splurge. He’d recognize that craftsmanship and brand name anywhere. This was no longer in the price point of a thoughtful souvenir; he didn’t have to see the price tag (which was conveniently absent in the showcase) to know how damn _expensive_ the pen was.

Even without holding it in his hands, he knew it was a hefty, nicely-weighted pen, sturdy and durable. But even more eye-catching was the intricate design, which he supposed, was the point of such stunning artistry. Silver, or some sister metal, easily caught whatever light shone on it and directed it to the gems — which he hoped were not actual diamonds — inlaid in a single row around the circumference of the cap. The cap itself and barrel of the pen was a delicate skeleton made of the same silver, designed in a fashion reminiscent of warped scales but still keeping to its elegance. The skeleton housed a light blue glass (at least, definitely not plastic) that held the ink, allowing the owner to know when the ink ran low and needed refilling. The nib, as well, was a clean silver with a gold, swirling pattern running all the way to the tip.

 _‘Oh Six, that’s actual gold,_ ’ Ignis realized. He tore his eyes away from the pen, feeling like he should be paying up for just _looking_ at it, and gods knew his bank account was thin enough as it was, and he turned to Noctis. This was something way out of budget for a single souvenir. “I really think — ”

“It’s perfect! Right?” Noctis beamed, eyes shining like the gems encrusted in the pen. He then looked away from Ignis to flag down the owner, who promptly placed herself behind the glass showcase to help with whatever he needed.

Oh. Gods.

“Can I see that pen right there?” Noctis asked, pointing through the glass. Without missing a beat, she slid the glass door and reached in, carefully picking up the pen set and sliding it across the glass case for Noctis to see. With gentle fingers, he plucked the pen out of its velvet bedding and slowly turned it over in his hands, letting out an appreciative hum for its craftsmanship.

“The makers say it’s limited edition,” the owner explained, reaching into the case to pull out a small, thin booklet. (Ignis would later find out, when he entered ‘Tidemother pen limited edition’ in the Moogle search bar, that limited edition was an understatement. Only three were made.) She flipped through a couple pages, placing a finger where she read off the lines.

Word for word.

“The Tidemother of the Hexatheon series features a design reminiscent of the ocean she rules over, a delicate skeleton of scales laid over a glass barrel. Crafted for a lifetime of use, the Tidemother is made with platinum and white gold, guaranteed to never scratch or dull.”

 _Shiva’s tits,_ it was platinum. Not silver, _platinum._

“For the added sense of luxury, an elegant string of diamonds wrap around the cap, equipped with a platinum clip for added convenience.”

And diamonds. Of course.

“In our guarantee of the ultimate experience, the Tidemother offers a smooth sailing with its mythril nib, embossed with gold accents.”

Ignis screamed inside. Mythril. Not silver, not platinum. Godsdamned _mythril_. What even was the point of using mythril for a pen?!

“Oh, neat,” Noctis hummed, not even batting a single eyelash. “I’ll take it.”

Without missing a beat, the woman directed him to the register at the front, where surely, Noctis would see the price tag ring up and change his mind. But no, he handed off a sleek black card, uncaring for the long string of digits that lit up the little screen. Ignis made damn sure to keep his eyes on anything but the numbers.

They walked out the store, Noctis happy as a clam, with a wrapped box hidden away inside the gift bag. Ignis never found out how much the pen had cost, had made damn sure to be out of earshot when Noctis had made no move to retract the black card he had handed to the owner, and he preferred to keep it that way.

Ignis wasn’t sure what disturbed him more. Noctis’ spending habits and apparent wealth and his willingness to part with it for a _pen_ , or the fact said pen had found itself in the hands of a woman who owned a quaint, humdrum store that could use a fresh coat of paint. He wondered who she had to kill to get something so priceless just to stow it away in the back of her shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not an exact rendition, but in case you’re curious about the pen. https://www.montblanc.com/en-us/collection/writing-instruments/meisterstueck/115981-meisterstueck-unicef-solitaire-skeleton-149-fountain-pen.html  
> I could buy a car instead, hot damn.  
> 
> 
> Fact: the store owner is using the shop as a front for shady, not-so-legal deals, probably
> 
>  
> 
> Also! That Episode Ardyn trailer, huh? So, about that. Next chapter will be delayed, because I'm scrambling to get some ardyn fics out before the anime/dlc hits since that trailer threw a wrench in some fic ideas and uh... yeah. I'm getting my foot in the door before the anime totally invalidates me. LOL.  
> Amazing what 3 seconds of ambiguous footage will do, huh? (I'm looking at you, somnus.)


	4. Just Two Bros Hangin' Out

Ignis carried a stuffed, overly large Malboro, tucking it away under his right arm, as Noctis held onto his left. Despite the dwindling crowds, he found that Noctis had a penchant for being swept away, and neither of them wanted to go through the troubles of fishing Noct out.

After witnessing the ludicrous amount of money dropped on a single pen, Ignis had sincerely wondered what he had gotten himself into, couldn’t stomach the idea that he had been the reason for the insane purchase. So when Noctis had dragged him off across the plaza to find even more souvenirs — for his uncles and friends — Ignis had lost all confidence in guiding the young man’s way. He certainly would not be able to handle watching the register ring up in five, six figures again.

And thank the Six above, Noctis’ subsequent purchases had all been tamed compared to his father’s gift. There were some odd knick knacks and gag items, such as the Malboro plush Ignis had offered to carry, but they were all within a reasonable price range.

Having done his shopping, Noctis seemed to be in the mood for more sightseeing, and Ignis couldn’t deny those smiling eyes. So when Ignis remembered just why he had stepped onto these busy plazas in the first place, he didn’t think much of it aside from capitalising it as a two-birds-one-stone idea.

“Would you mind a detour?” Ignis asked, nodding his head toward the opposite street.

“Not a problem.”

Ignis weaved themselves through the streets, guided Noctis into an antique shop that doubled as a secondhand store of sorts. There were plenty of shining yet odd things for Noctis to occupy himself with, from strange cactuar figurines and moogle charms to ornate arts and crafted brasswork. Noctis immediately honed in on a crate full of fishing gear and scampered off with all the glee of a child in a candy store. It was endearing and well, cute.

With Noctis rummaging through the lures and lines, Ignis used the opportunity to wander over to the furnitures. Perhaps not today, but he hoped to find a decent desk to replace the smaller one at home. After an aching back from hunching over his coffee table, Ignis had decided he couldn’t keep putting off the purchase, and hence, had weathered through the busy day of tourism — until Noctis had come along.

Ignis ran his hand over the lacquered finish of a solid oak desk when Noctis ambled over to him with a small basket of fishing lures.

“I see you’ve fished up some treasure,” Ignis noted, glancing inside the basket.

“Yeah, can’t wait to try these out.” Noctis pulled out a lure, a small yellow thing with a spotted pattern of a coeurl. He dangled it between two delicate fingers, smiling as if there was a prize catch hanging off the lure. “Never seen this one before either.”

“Neither have I. Despite living in Altissia, I have yet to try my hand at fishing I’m afraid.”

Noctis looked absolutely appalled. “You’re serious.”

“Very.”

“I need to take you fishing, Speccy. You’re missing out.”

“If you’d be so gracious to teach this humble student.” Ignis inclined his head in a mock bow, lips curved into a playful smile.

Noctis didn’t reply but his eyes crinkled in amusement as he carefully dropped the lure back into his basket. He looked over to the desk. “So what are we looking at here? Furniture?”

“Desks.” Ignis gently rapped his knuckles against the surface. “I’ve been meaning to replace my old one, too small for my requirements. This one’s just about the right size I’d say.”

Noctis placed a hand on the desk, causing it to lean forward just slightly at the weight. “Kinda rickety, don’t you think?”

“Nothing I can’t fix or handle. In any case, I’m only browsing for now,” Ignis said with a light shrug of his shoulders.

“Hm.”

Ignis didn’t think much of the pensive look in the man’s eyes or the way his phone suddenly held his rapt attention. Probably playing that King’s Knight Prompto raved about — though it looked like Noctis was scrolling through a catalogue rather than dungeon crawling.

 

 

Noctis pulled them inside a small coffee shop. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for a snack right now.”

Ignis couldn’t deny he was feeling a bit peckish as well, now that Noctis mentioned it. He checked his watch, finding they had spent a good few hours wandering around the shopping district, and they were stuck in that awkward time of day that was far too late for lunch yet too early for dinner.

Noctis ordered a sweet latte and a small flatbread, Ignis a simple coffee and a buttery croissant. Naturally, Noctis paid for them both, but only because he pulled the strategy of handing over his gift bags to Ignis, whose hands would be too full to pull out his own money in time. Ignis didn’t even bother to give him a knowing look. He picked up his coffee and croissant and followed Noctis to a small round table perched by a window, tucking the Malboro toy into a corner of the sill.

After walking around for hours, Ignis was just content to rest his legs for the moment and sip on something hot. The ache in his feet wasn’t so noticeable until he finally took his seat and was able to stretch out, and Noctis seemed to be in the same boat, who took the opportunity to stretch out his arms and legs, his shoes scraping past the legs of Ignis’ chair before retracting them.

“Today was fun,” Noctis mused, swirling the contents of his latte before taking a sip. Ignis nodded his head in silent agreement, but that may have been a mistake. Noctis’ eyes flashed, in something akin to brief panic perhaps, and he furrowed his brows. “I didn’t keep you out too long, did I?” he asked quickly.

“Oh, no. Not at all. Today was a well-needed break, I assure you.” He honestly needed a break from the headache of studying for midterms, and the ocean of medical terms and materials were not being kind to him.

“If you say so — oh, hold on.” There’s a distinct buzzing accompanied by an 8-bit music score, which Ignis recognized as the ringtone, and Noctis hastily pulled out his phone to take the call, slightly grimacing at the screen as he swiped his finger across. “Yeah?” he said into the mouthpiece. Whatever or whoever was on the other side made him cringe further. “Yeah, I — er, sorry, I forgot.” A pause, listening to the voice on the other end of the call. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. Time just kind of slipped away, but I’m fine. Look, I’m having a coffee date, at the uhhh…” Noctis turned his cup around, reading out the brand labeled across the cardboard sleeve, “Good Tides Cafe. The one on — yeah, that one. Okay, see you, Gladio.”

Ignis didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Noctis wasn’t exactly being quiet nor subtle. And well.

_Were_ they on an actual date? Ignis nervously drummed his fingers along the table.

With a huff, Noctis placed his phone screen down onto the table, meeting Ignis’ raised eyebrows hiding behind his coffee. “A friend, slash babysitter,” he explained, nose scrunching up at the words, as if they left a sour note on his tongue. He took a large gulp of his latte to wash it down.

“I wonder what sorts of troubles you get yourself into, if you truly do have a babysitter,” Ignis teased.

“I dunno, you tell me. You’re the only ‘trouble’ I ran into all day.”

“If I may be so arrogant, I’d say you’ve done quite well.” Ignis waggled his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips.

Underneath the table, Noctis lightly tapped a shoe against Ignis’ shin, huffing a silent laugh. He picked off the small tomatoes on his flatbread, piling them onto a napkin, and tore off a piece to pop into his mouth. “What?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at Ignis’ amused expression, who inclined his head toward the discarded tomatoes. “I just don’t like ‘em.”

A childish excuse, if Ignis ever heard one. He remembered their first meeting, when they had gone to lunch together with Prompto; Noctis had left most of the greens by the wayside. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but after observing his distaste for tomatoes, he thought it probably extended to an entire food group. “Neither do you like other vegetables, if I recall correctly.”

Noctis averted his eyes and muttered into his drink. “I eat them if I _have_ to, at least.”

Ignis gave him the benefit of the doubt and relented. Nothing to be gained otherwise, anyway, except for maybe some ire. “If you say so.” He lifted his croissant in a mock toast before bringing it to his lips. It wasn't the best, obviously something mass-produced in chain stores, but he's certainly had worse. It was warm and light and flaky enough, and that's all it took to pass muster.

Ignis had downed half his coffee when a statue of a man walked up to their table. He was far from menacing, but Ignis had no doubt he could pull a scowl that could send street thugs running with their tails tucked in between their legs.

“Hey, Gladio.” Noctis looked up with half a grin.

Ah, so this was the mysterious babysitter, Ignis thought. _‘More of a bodyguard, I'd say.’_ Despite the thick leather jacket, he could see the hard-earned bulk of the other man in the width of his chest and the thickness of his arms.

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Don't ‘hey’ me, Noct. You were supposed to check in with me an hour ago.” He waved his phone in the air. “Couldn't even spare two seconds to shoot a text?”

“I know, sorry. Time just kinda flew by, y'know?” Noctis at least offered a sheepish grin, shrinking his head in between his shoulders in mild shame.

“I know you've been looking forward to all this but just try to be more careful, alright?”

“Got it, big guy.”

Gladio seemed satisfied to leave it at that, since he promptly turned his attention to Ignis. Ignis, in turn, couldn't deny the slight panic of suddenly being thrown under that hawkish gaze. Thankfully, he felt somewhat hidden behind his cup, having been sipping at it when the man decided to turn his eyes over to him.

“You're Ignis, right?”

Oh, that was a surprise. Here he thought they were complete strangers, considering this was the first time he had even seen him.

But, Ignis realized, this was not the first time he’s heard his name. It had been spilled from a certain blonde's chattering mouth quite frequently, especially when he talked of home, and Ignis wondered how it took him this long to put it all together. Gladio wasn't a common name, but it wasn't something unheard of; though with Noctis and Prompto in the picture, Ignis probably should have solved it sooner. The three, apparently, were quite close friends, coming together to form a circle Ignis was caught inside of.

“I am. Did Prompto…?”

“Bingo.” Gladio shot a thumbs up for good measure.

“He's talked highly of you.”

“Oh yeah? What'd he say?”

“That you have an amazing talent for bingeing on Cup Noodles, among other things.”

Across from him, Noctis snorted. “Well, he's not lying.”

“And I heard,” Gladio said smiling, “you make a mean stew. Well, actually he says that about everything you make.”

“I'm flattered.”

Conversation was easy, surprisingly. Ignis discovered the two found fun in friendly banter, teasing and throwing featherlight insults at each other; sometimes Noctis issued a pout in mild annoyance, Gladio responding in eye rolls or gentle smacks to the other's arm.

“Well, we oughta get going,” Gladio said. He finished off the last of the flatbread Noctis had slid over to him. “It was nice meeting you, Ignis.”

“Likewise,” Ignis said, finishing the last of his coffee. Standing, he reached over to the window sill and plucked their shopping bags to hand over. Gladio took the bulk of the gifts, not even batting an eyelash at the shopping spree his friend decided to indulge in. Noctis made grabby hands toward the Malboro, and well, Ignis could not refuse when he looked rather adorable huddling an oversized plush to his chest.

“You look like a little kid with that thing,” Gladio said, nudging the young man with his elbow. Ignis agreed, though silently unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of Noctis’ stink eye currently trained on Gladio. Noctis raised his arms and batted the side of Gladio’s head with the toy.

Ignis followed the two out, shook a hand with Gladio before they parted. He barely caught Gladio asking Noctis how their ‘date’ went, to which the younger responded, “Pretty good.”

Ignis tried not to dwell on it or the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

 

 

And even if he had succeeded on _not_ dwelling on it, the knock at his door the next morning would have definitely reminded him. Ignis finished rinsing his plates and wiped his hands off with a dish towel as he quickly trotted to the door. He peeked through the eyehole and recognized the logo on the man’s hat, belonging to a common delivery service known throughout Eos. Ignis frowned. He hadn’t ordered anything of late, so they must have gotten the wrong address.

It turned out, however, that while Ignis did not order anything, someone else did. For him. He stood in his bedroom, staring down at the brand new desk.

He didn’t have to check the receipt to know who exactly was responsible for this. He picked up the small envelope that was delivered with the desk, pulling out a simple cardstock with one line of writing across it.

> _Thanks for the date :P -Noct_

 

* * *

 

_Kweh!_

Prompto ignored the text, mashing at his controller as he parried a monster attack. Unfortunately and despite his valiant efforts, his character soon got overwhelmed by the onslaught of daemons, giving rise to an echo of a scream as the words ‘Game Over’ wrote itself in bright red on the screen.

_Kweh!_

He tossed his controller to the side, reaching for his phone to check the two messages he missed.

> (6:50 pm) **Nocto** : hey prom
> 
> (7:02 pm) **Nocto** : whats specs address

Prompto frowned.

> (7:05 pm) **Prompto** : lol y u wanna kno
> 
> (7:05 pm) **Nocto** : borrowed something, gonna drop it thru his mail slot or w/e idk
> 
> (7:06 pm) **Prompto** : O ok. It’s 449 Sycamore St I could drop it off to him if u want tho
> 
> (7:08 pm) **Prompto** : Wait. noct ur not buying smthn for him are u
> 
> (7:08 pm) **Prompto** : ??
> 
> (7:08 pm) **Prompto** : ???? bruh
> 
> (7:10 pm) **Prompto** : Noct
> 
> (7:14 pm) **Nocto** : sorry my desk is on fire gtg
> 
> (7:14 pm) **Prompto** : N o c t i s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:3 」∠)
> 
> next chapter should be more fun ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/


	5. A 'Good Night Special,' Bartender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Iggy boy. I remember you filing away some things for a “later night to drink down with cheap beer.”  
> It’s time to make good on that promise. (ʘ‿ʘ✿) TIME TO GET TURNT.
> 
> Nothing inappropriate or non-consensual happens, just a bit of drunkenness. 
> 
> O and /points at updated tags/

It's a Saturday evening, and Ignis chose — ever so dutifully — to spend the day away with his nose buried in his books. He managed to retype his notes from his scrawls of writing an hour ago, though Prompto had repeatedly pointed out his penmanship looked like calligraphy compared to his own chicken scratch, and he was just now moving onto the endocrine system. His hands had been scrambling between his laptop, his texts and supporting references, three differently colored pens and green and pink highlighters. His thumb sported a lovely neon orange band-aid from picking up a papercut when he turned a page too quickly.

And thankfully, that was the only casualty thus far. The aching back and strained shoulders had been delightfully absent, now that he was no longer chained to the floor at his coffee table. His new desk had all the space he could ask for, sturdy enough to hold all the weight of his many hardcovers, and carried ample drawers to tuck the rest of his materials in. The top right drawer, however, remained empty save for one small envelope, designated as some sort of homage to the gifter. To Noctis.

Despite his initial stupor, Ignis had made it a priority to thank the man for the well-needed-but-entirely-uncalled-for gift, but the problem had been the how and what. He had no number to text or call, and he had no idea what he could offer as thanks. And was it even appropriate to give a thank-you gift _for_ receiving one in the first place? (A present for the date, Noctis had written.) While it was entirely possible to ask Prompto for Noctis’ contact, he had felt… shy? Inappropriate, more like it. Weird, maybe. Ignis had never asked his friends for someone else's number, and he would hate for it to be taken in the wrong way.

So with no number and no idea as to what he should give, it eventually fell down his list of priorities as his classes started to hit him full-force with all the speed and weight of a Behemoth riding a bullet train.

If the massive amounts of memorization of what dysfunction led to which disorder didn't run him into the ground first, then his growing disdain for his future and his career path would. But it wasn't the studying or the hours devoted to his desk; he could deal with that, he knew school would not be an easy walk across campus. He was fine with the all-nighters, with chugging canned coffee and fueling his caffeine addiction so he could push through the final hours to finish his workload. He liked school. He liked learning.

Ignis just hated _medical_ school. Blood and injuries never bothered him, so gore wasn't the issue. He respected what doctors and surgeons did, and knew that ultimately, they were helping or saving lives. He knew that some didn't do it for charity but to line their pockets, and he could definitely see the appeal of the hefty salaries. But this, this wasn't him. He may have the brains for it, but he lacked the heart.

Rather than a fine scalpel, he preferred a well-sharpened knife. Rather than a operation table, he wanted a cutting board. An x-ray machine for an oven, scrubs for an apron, vials and syringes for a spice rack and cookware.

And living in Altissia, the living beacon of fine arts and food, made his heart ache for the culinary wonders that breathed through her streets. Sure, he had made cooking and baking a hobby much before he was accepted into school; both mother and father instilled that love for the stove, for that pliant dough underneath his hands or that sharp spice of curry. But it wasn’t until Altissia, with her salt air and her sweet aromas, ignited that low-burning ember into high-reaching flames.

And every time he passed the streets and saw her culinary students mingle at the markets, Ignis was brutally reminded of the proud smiles his parents had sent him off with, holding faith in their chests that Ignis would excel and bloom in his studies. He was utterly torn between the two corners of his heart: his beloved family and his own desires.

Gods, he was a mess. He’s too early in his life to be having a crisis.

Ignis needed a breather, a distraction, _something_ to pull him out of his headspace. He thrummed his finger along the edge of his desk and leaned back into his chair, staring at the line where wall intersected with ceiling and willing his mind to turn over to a blank slate. His eyes wandered over to his phone, read the time as 8:47 pm. He could call it quits for the night or —

The screen lit up, followed by a bell chime, with a text message from Prompto.

> (8:47 pm) **Prompto:** whatcha doin nerd

Ignis smiled wryly, typing a reply.

> (8:47 pm) **Ignis:** Studying.
> 
> (8:48 pm) **Prompto:** ???? dude its saturday wtf
> 
> (8:48 pm) **Ignis:** The pituitary gland does not rest on the weekends.
> 
> (8:49 pm) **Prompto:** uhhhh is that in my kidneys
> 
> (8:49 pm) **Ignis:** Brain.
> 
> (8:49 pm) **Prompto:** nailed it. ANYWay, u wanna rest YOUR brain and go out tonite or

Ignis sucked in a sharp breath, and he glanced back to his desk and study materials strewn all over. It only took him an extra beat to make his decision.

> (8:52 pm) **Ignis:** Pick your poison.

  


And tonight’s poison, as expectedly, was one of Prompto’s favorite clubs. Altissia may be a romantic, serene getaway during the day, all sparkling waters and gondola rides for two; but she turned absolutely wicked once night came and dimmed her streets. When the shops and tourist traps closed up for the evening, a whole new devil reared its head as night bars and clubs opened their doors to its midnight denizens. Bass rumbled through the concrete, smoke and cheap cologne perfumed the air, and neon lights decorated the blacked out windows.

The line at the RipTides was fairly short tonight, which Ignis was thankful for. He had already known Prompto implied going out to clubbing, because the only reason Prompto ever texted him on a Saturday night was to drag him out to parties. But he did not enjoy the long lines waiting at the bouncer and velvet dividers, especially in cold weather. Though he made sure to keep to casual wear, a black long-sleeve with its top two buttons undone and a pair of faded jeans, he had the hindsight to wear a dark leather blazer. Still, he was in want of a couple more layers in the chill air, and the bouncer was taking his sweet time checking their IDs.

Prompto, somehow, always seemed to run a bit warmer than the average human. He hardly shivered with his sleeveless shirt, form-fitting and quite flattering, even if he did wear a leather jacket of his own, among all his other leather accessories. Of all the times Prompto dragged him through Altissian nightlife, Ignis never did hear him complain about waiting and walking through the cold.

Ignis had heard the muted rumble and beats as they made their way to the club, but once the door was opened to them, they were hit full blast with all the boom and deep bass of fast, electrifying music. Prompto bounced on his feet, head bobbing as he quickly felt out the rhythm, while Ignis weaved through the not-quite dense crowds and kept pace. The blonde always had this strange talent of feeling out the music and picking up the beats and waves, and he took to the neon strobe lights and writhing bodies like a fish took to water. Ignis was always a bit slower to let himself loosen, but a shot of vodka had yet to fail him.

Used to how his friend worked, Prompto led them to the bar, hopping up onto the blue leather barstool and placing his elbows on the countertop.

“Two blow jobs, my good sir!” Prompto yelled over the blasting music, leaning in for good measure.

“Again? You ordered that the last time,” Ignis tsked, settling in on the seat next to him. “I think you only like it for the name.”

Prompto broke into a face-splitting grin and slapped his knee. “Aw man, caught red-handed! I mean, the name's funny but I totally screwed up drinking it the last time, remember? Whip cream _everywhere._ So now it’s redemption time.”

Ignis did remember Prompto, hands clasped behind his back, spilling the entire shot as he tried to pick it up with his mouth alone.

The bartender slid one glass toward each of them, a layered concoction of coffee liqueur, Amaretto, and Tenebraean cream topped off with a generous helping of whipped cream. Ignis slid off his glasses and placed them on the counter before locking his arms behind him, hands clasped at his back, and Prompto followed suit.

“For redemption?” Ignis asked, glancing up from the shot to spare a look at his comrade.

“For redemption,” Prompto replied, looking a touch too determined and sullen for a man about to drink down a blowjob.

Ignis managed to take the whole shot glass in his mouth, lips cleanly missing the whipped cream, and he tossed his head back in one quick motion. He almost gagged at the burn, but he was just as determined as Prompto to get it all down in one go. After gulping down the coffee and cream poison, he carefully placed the shot glass back down on the counter, setting it upright before finally releasing his hands from behind his back. Ignis allowed himself a grimace from the burn of the drink and the aftertaste, then turned to see how Prompto fared.

“Got it down in one go, baby!” Prompto beamed, licking off a bit of cream from the corner of his lips and shooting a thumbs up. “Alright, Iggy, you're up.”

He looked to the bartender and gave a level gaze. “Ice Bombers, two.”

Prompto recoiled and cringed, as if Ignis ordered actual daemon Bombs to explode on them. “Dude, seriously? You wanna kill us?”

Ignis knew he had just ordered one of the harder shots, and so did Prompto. The last time they drank them, the night had nearly rolled off the metaphorical cliff and into Leviathan's gaping maw. Ignis wasn't looking to get himself wasted as they had almost done that one time, but he was certainly tempted to get close. He just needed to escape his thoughts and his dread for the future, at least just for the night.

“No,” he said, “Only hammered.”

Prompto shuddered but gave a solemn salute, and they tossed their shots back. The second time didn't make the burn any better, and never was Ignis more thankful for the chaser, downing the juice before the Ice Bomber could explode back up his throat.

  


Ignis ended up nursing a beer while Prompto ran off to the dance floor, content to just watch the blur of bodies melt with colored lights and reflective tiles. But after two songs, Prompto returned to drag him into the crowd, where they found a pair of women looking to dance for a song or two. Prompto paired up with a fair brunette; Ignis with the other, whose hair looked dark as night and eyes a shade of gray.

He thought it a shame that her eyes lacked the blue of a certain man, that her waist was quite petite and several inches too slim, that her perfume didn't quite match the scent of his favorite scarf, that her hair had the right shade but the wrong length. Still, she had all the soft curves and sweet but fiery touches to bring him out of his shell, and made for a pleasant partner. It didn’t stop him from wondering if a certain man liked to dance, if he even knew how to, if he frequented clubs and parties just as much as Prompto did.

After their second song together, she laughed something and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before scurrying off to find her friend. He wasn't sure what she said, through the numbing alcohol and the thundering music. Through the realization that he had been thinking about Noctis the entire time he had been dancing with her.

_‘Oh gods above.’_

He had a crush. Ignis Scientia had a crush — and on his _friend's best friend,_ to boot.

Prompto jogged over to him, his own lady missing and most likely reunited with her friend, his breath a bit quickened from the excitement and bustle of the club. The music died down just enough as the DJs switched.

“I think I need another drink, Prompto.”

  


A couple hours and twice as many drinks later, Ignis felt miserable. He draped himself across a booth, Prompto faring just as badly and slumped over the table. The blonde was idly tapping away on his phone, eyes unfocused and dazed at what looked to be some text messages.

Sober Ignis wanted to warn him about the dangers of drunk texting, but drunk Ignis had other ideas and just wanted to sit there and stare at his empty cocktail. The night was supposed to be a getaway from the stress of school, disappointment, and inner conflict; but here he was, picking at his fraying threads over the realization that was a crush. He hadn't had one since middle school. Not high school. _Middle school._

Ignis didn't even know the man's last name! All he knew about Noctis was that he hailed from some business family, was Prompto's best friend who lived in Lucis, had a thing for fishing, and despite being an adult, hated vegetables. Yet here Ignis was, having feelings for someone he hardly knew and was, once again, _his friend's best friend._ There was some sort of unspoken rule about this, right? Like a taboo about dating a friend's friend or something?

He was a mess. A drunken mess that knew he and Prompto were pretty much goners with all they had to drink, a pair who honestly had no business trying to get back to their respective homes alone. Ignis wondered if he could at least get his legs to work before the club closed and kicked them out for the night.

Except he's sure he dozed off, because Prompto crawled across the seat at some point to nudge at his numb face, poking at his cheek with a sharp finger and slurring, “Igggg, wakeuhhp. They're supposed t’ be ‘ere soon.”

“Mmm.” Ignis wanted to ask who ‘they’ was, but his tongue felt like cotton in his mouth, and his jaw didn't want to cooperate. As a matter of fact, his entire body didn't want to cooperate.

Prompto smiled, all dazed and affectionate as he draped an arm around Ignis shoulder and pulled him into a lazy half hug. He waved his phone in the air, and Ignis could see Prompto had been texting. (Drunk texting, probably.) “‘m smart. Tell me I'm smart, Iggy.”

Ignis could only manage another hum, yet Prompto seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

But in the morning, he'd call him a genius, if the hangover didn't kill him. Because Prompto, with his singular working brain cell, had enough reason to text an address and a request for help before chugging their beers and shots.

Ignis didn't even realize he was walking, with the support of someone else's arm slung under his own and around his waist, until the cool night air and a familiar scent hit him right in the face. He was coherent enough to worry about Prompto, but his concern was abated once he saw him carried on the back of Gladio. It took all his motor skills to look up at his own savior.

The last thing he remembered was a sympathetic smile and eyes as blue as the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompto and his singular bird brain cell: noctis how do our feet smell if they dont have noses


End file.
